Righteous
by LocalTalent53
Summary: Part 3, Chp 12: In the midst of war and political blackmail, through her own righteous decision she chooses to watch the world burn... a look into Micaiah's thoughts as she prepares to pay the ultimate price in a world where she has everything to lose.


Disclaimer: I do not own Fire Emblem, nor the characters depicted in this piece of literature.

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Righteous

Micaiah wakes with fire, a gasp emitted as she sits up in her tent. Sothe is there, always there, sitting next to her cot, face scrunched up and contorted into expressions that, were she unfamiliar with his emotions, would be akin to anguish. She watches him study her carefully, hoping to pass his tests, knowing he'll catch on, never passing his scrutinizing.

"You need to sleep more often," he tells her out of concern. She disregards it; she can't sleep, he knows she can't sleep, why does he still ask?

"I will," she replies, "once this conflict is over…" But she knows, and he knows. After today, she will never sleep again…

He helps her up, reluctantly; tells her she should be staying down and recovering. She argues back that the army needs her attention and that General Tauroneo can only handle provisions for so long. Sothe grumbles in response, accepting her excuses for the time being.

They step out and meet with the troops; she can see the slight reluctance in some of her men to undergo the battle, the urge to return home to family not seen in months. If only they knew what true danger the country lies in…

She makes eye contact with many old friends: a confused, lost smile from Edward (did he understand what was happening?), grim resolve in Leonardo, stout contemplation in the eyes of Nolan. Flickers of images through her memory of their travels; how far they have come! From brigands to bigots, all in the course of a year!

She can see rage in Jill's eyes. Trust wavering. Questions inside her mind. Micaiah ponders to herself: is it the vicious and pointless war that is finally driving her away, or the unspeakable acts that are to be done today? She's not sure which, but in any case it does not matter. She had seen the outcome in her dreams; whether she loses the trust of all but Sothe matters not to her now.

It's funny, she realizes. Only months beforehand she would have trembled at the thought of losing the trust of the people. It was a fear that had, until now, gripped her in the way slimy, grotesque hands clench murderously around one's throat. She chokes no longer: the time to prove her own loyalty has come.

She gives her excuses to Tauroneo: Pelleas needs more time, the senate is watching carefully, but every word she says holds pain and a false sense of assurance that she begins to find herself lacking. Conviction begins to fail her, and Tauroneo sees it; he makes no remark in order to retain troop morale. He knows it too, she realizes; he knows that they are going to burn.

As they stand there and prepare the troops for the slaughter she ponders further; does Sothe feel this burning, this flame that hellishly licks away at her very soul? It clutches her, that doubt and depravity, enveloping her with discord and disillusions regarding her cause. He is the closest thing to her; does he share the agony?

Suddenly, everything leaps to life; movement everywhere, shifting of lances, clanking of metal. A voice; Sothe's. It clings to her throughout the chaos of action, "…Micaiah, are you still set on this?"

She catches the almost shaky tone in his voice; for the first time in months, uncertainty in his voice louder than any scream, shout or wail. He cries out to her with the question, she can sense the pleading. Don't do this, Micaiah. You don't have to do this. Please, Ashera, don't do this!

She ignores him. She addresses Tauroneo regarding the plan.

A soldier comes running up to them: "General Maiel's forces have encountered General Ike's laguz forces. The battle has begun!"

She recalls General Maiel; tries to recall his face and his cause and his life, but it does not matter; he is dead anyway, or will be soon. She reinforces the order, instructs the men, burns a little more with each sentence. If they were to fail, the senate would be angered and would move to destroy Daein. The alliance would crumble; we must fight with everything we have so that Daein may live on!

One last protest from Sothe; is this really necessary? She knows it is and he knows it is, but is it? Is the purpose worth the price? Even Tauroneo expresses his doubts, his insecurities…

…but breaking down now will do nothing, she resolves. She tries to pacify them with cheap sick euphemisms for slaughter and torture ("stalling", she calls it) ; they buy it, Tauroneo far more easily than Sothe. When they agree to it, slaughter is a little easier on the mind; she gives the orders, lets loose all hell.

Chaos engulfs everything: a whirlwind of war, the cries of heroes, villains, men, women, boys and girls younger than Sothe even…people. The burning…it grows, discontent with a small flame. She chokes; falters, despite her given word not to; the blood flies, she can see it even from her position so far away; screams permeate the air, laments of the dead and dying squirming into every chilled bone; hell alive upon the earth.

She stands her ground, lacking breath. The blaze scalds and sears her now, eating away at what little is left of her heart and soul. What's left now anyway, she wonders? Hope? Determination? Success? Vengeance? Hatred? Despair? None of it changes the plan.

Despite all her words and prayers, all the incantations of holy light she ever uttered, she wonders if the goddess is watching. All hell breaking loose, she wonders if any goddess is watching. Ashera must be seething down at her, holy eyes gazing in contempt at the demonic blaze she carried within her. All gifts and curses aside, all acts nullified, she remembers her reasoning for the decisions, the faces of those she loves and cares for despite all the harm she's caused them then and now. Sothe; Pelleas; Edward; Leonardo; Nolan. Flashes of new friends and allies, like Tormod and Muarim. The cause returns to her, saving her temporarily from the anguish of an unquenchable inferno tearing her soul to ashes.

She wonders what she's doing is righteous, the goal truly toward a greater cause. Wonders if what she says is Ashera's plan, the divine way of how things will go; fate, she deems it. Perhaps her words will end this maelstrom of death, the chaos of battle. For she is only fighting for the best interest of those she loves…

…as she sends them down the battlefield to their slaughter against unstoppable foes, sends rocks flailing down the cliff side whether her men are under them or not. What once was banter from Sothe's mouth is now all too real, and it strikes her that the families she fights to protect will have husbands returned to them cold and dead, still in armor and with no gold in their pockets. Yet the solution sits before her clear as day, the way to save the mothers and children…

…No. It is not righteousness, she decides. Only slaughter; her artful depiction of the very place she would eventually sink down into; the hatred of Jill, the horror of Edward, the shame of Tauroneo; the dance of her foes and fellow men as they grace the mountains with a fervor only ignited by betrayal and oil. And she would stand atop the pyre, her own funeral in the making.

She imagines how she will be charged with the slaughter of her own men: will they sentence her to death? The sight of her own limp body broken at the neck before the public seems all but a vision now. Or would they not let her off so easily? Torture in various ways plagues her mind with fear. Or, perhaps…imprisonment slips into her mind, the ultimate horror of sitting in the grey cells for all eternity, her blood revealed by time to all and the guilt ripping her apart forever. She fears it, and with a quiver turns her head to Sothe; his eyes are not wet with tears as most would, but she reads the pain on his face nonetheless. If she does not destroy for him, rape for him, mutilate for him, die for him, will he have a future? The idea of losing him first so soon snaps her into a realization: there is no righteousness in her actions, only fear and destruction; she must tear the world apart for, if not Daein itself, at least for his sake.

He looks to her, explains the situation; she finally responds properly. Stern eyes. "There is no turning back now, Micaiah. You have to give the order."

"Yes, I know." Not even Sothe can turn her back now.

Maiel's death is reported; there is no surprise as the destroyer of her hope approaches. The flames lick her evermore, the scarring present in her heart.

She barks to the archers; the next phase approaches.

She feels the burning grow, the chaos envelope her in a manner she has never felt before; a desire so strong that it may have very well stood in for righteousness. Conviction for all the wrong reasons; resignation for all the right ones. A hazed state like sleep or drowsiness.

"There's no more time for doubt."

With the pointing of her finger, Micaiah wakes with fire, her voice commanding it, making it governed by her will, chaotic searing written in her blood; eyesight consumed with bright scarlet, hellish flames, righteous intentions.

Following her words, she only sees the inferno.


End file.
